The burst of
anguish with which he answers the stern taunt of Sebastian, is one of
those rare, but natural instances, in which high-toned passion assumes
a figurative language, because all that is familiar seems inadequate
to express its feelings:
_Dor._ Thou hast dared
To tell me, what I durst not tell myself:
I durst not think that I was spurned, and live;
And live to hear it boasted to my face.
All my long avarice of honour lost,
Heaped up in youth, and hoarded up for age!
Has honour's fountain then sucked back the stream?
He has; and hooting boys may dry-shod pass,
And gather pebbles from the naked ford.
Give me my love, my honour; give them back--
Give me revenge, while I have breath to ask it!
But I will not dwell on the beauties of this scene. If any one is
incapable of relishing it, he may safely conclude, that nature has not
merely denied him that rare gift, poetical taste, but common powers of
comprehending the ordinary feelings of humanity. The love scene,
betwixt Sebastian and Almeyda, is more purely conceived, and expressed
with more reference to sentiment, than is common with our author. The
description which Dorax gives of Sebastian, before his appearance,
coming from a mortal enemy, at least from one whose altered love was
as envenomed as hatred, is a grand preparation for the appearance of
the hero.
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